Sleepless in Manchester
by Another Icarus
Summary: First Class  Charles might be a bit loud - and that's not even taking into account his telepathy.


Erik twitches his fingers from around his small tumbler of brandy, and tugs playfully, without physically touching, on Charles's cufflink. The whole sleeve moves with it and tugs Charles's hand so that when he places his King - white, because Charles would _always_ play the White, given a choice - it is placed unevenly when Charles's fingers release. It hits the nearly cleared chessboard with a dull thud.

"My friend, that certainly doesn't count as a checkmate," Charles laughs softly, looking up at him without tilting his head to really look. It's drawing close to midnight, and the fire in the study's fireplace is dying.

"Mm. I'm aware." Erik sips at the brandy, watching Charles right the King and move it where he had intended prior. His subtle attempt at warning Charles has failed, and the game will end a lot sooner than he anticipated.

"You feel nervous, Erik. Do you believe you'll lose, tonight?" Charles chuckles, shaking his head. He clearly doesn't think so - he knows that he's on the run, and their pattern holds that once Erik has Charles trapped and running, Erik -will- win.

It's an inevitibility that Erik is normally pleased to accept, but tonight-

"No, I'm sorry. I'm quite certain I've won. Just far too soon for my pleasure," Erik chuckles lowly, shaking his head and firming his will. There are few things that he allows himself to go easy on, but a promise to take what he wants - certainly not. There is no compromise for this.

He sets the crystal tumbler down beside the board, and moves his hand to a rook in the corner of the border - mostly untouched all game. He glances up and sees Charles's eyes widen in recognition of a trap he hadn't noticed and Erik had done everything possible to warn him of.

"Checkmate." He moves the rook and lifts the King up with his powers, setting it carefully in line with the other pieces he's collected through the game.

"You distracted me, tugging on my cuff like you-" Charles's accusation is fond, easy, but cut off prematurely as Erik rises from his seat, steadying a hand on the board, and leans across, silencing him with a press of lips to lips.

The surprise is certainly not his, and is almost tasted on his lips - Charles is leaking his emotions, and the surprise is the clearest - followed by some small spark of-

The word comes to him when he begins to draw away, only to feel Charles follow him, catching his lips in a second kiss while the telepath's hand curls around the back of Erik's neck, holding him there. Happy. Happy, hopeful -love-. The emotions, not entirely foreign to Erik but certainly not his, crash over him and make him press that much more into the kiss.

With a soft groan against the flooring, the table protests his weight pushing on it. Impatiently, he pushes it aside by latching onto the bolts holding it in one piece. It grates lowly, but ultimately clears room for him to draw nearer to Charles, and as it moves, he pulls Charles up to his feet by a grip on his jumper, rough hands curling in the all too expensive knit like it was a piece of offensive paper.

It breaks whatever spell is over them, forcing their lips to halt when meeting and their touching to just graze the surface of what could be. Charles presses close then, head tilted up to accomodate the difference in height, while Erik's hands curl possessively around Charles's offered wrists, trapping him close. The kiss shifts, opening and enveloping and deepening in a give-and-take war against one another.

Charles whimpers softly at the feel of teeth snagging on his lower lip, and attempts his best to find some purchase on Erik's body. Erik would have none of that, though, and keeps his grip steady.

It feels as if they've been kissing forever when they finally part, chests rising shallowly in some attempt to reclaim breath that has somehow been lost between them.

/Erik./ The statement is simple and not at all verbal. Erik responds with a grin, dipping his head to instead kiss Charles's throat. The telepath tilts his head away, providing access with a low rumble in his throat.

"We should leave." Erik states, softly, as if volume would shatter what tentative link between them now exists.

"Leave?" Charles laughs, and it's a soft, choking sound because he seems to be off-balance in ever sense of the world currently.

"Well, unless you want me to have you in the middle of your study, I believe we should regroup elsewhere. With a bed." Erik smiles like he's ready to devour Charles, and for all intents and purposes, he honestly is.

"Oh." Charles laughs, though his cheeks are burning. /My friend, the things you're projecting right now.../

"Are quite alright, I should hope?"

"Yes. Yes, they're-" Charles swallows and draws away, though he slips one of his hands more securely into Erik's, and there's a playfulness now dancing in his eyes. "I'm looking forward to what will come from them."

"Do you suppose the children heard us last night?" Charles's voice is tinged with concern, chewing on the pad of his thumb. A high collared shirt hangs off of him - a little too large, but enough to hide the markings Erik had left trailing down his neck.

"I'm sure we would've had Raven at our door telling us to quiet down if that was the case, Charles." Erik assures calmly, shifting the pan on the stove to flip another omelette.

"But Alex has the closest room, what if he-"

"Alex is a heavy sleeper, Charles. I'm sure it's fine." Erik smiles at him, an air of calm filling his words. "Now, are you trying to tell me that you'd prefer to hide what we've just discovered we have?" The smile turns teasing when Charles seems torn between turning red and looking guilty.

"It's nothing like that, Erik. I just don't think that the children should be subjected to our... passions."

"You were rather loud, weren't you," Erik muses, plating the omelette with the others, turning off the stove with a snap.

"I-! You were encouraging me!"

"That I was. In fact, I think I should do a bit -more- -" Erik started to slip his hands around Charles's waist, tugging him close, before Charles places his hands on his shoulders and pulls free.

"The children are-"

"Morning!" Raven chirps as she comes into the kitchen, a sleepy-eyed Sean in tow.

"Good morning, Raven, Sean. Alex!" Charles lifts his head and calls further down the hall. The blond returns in kind, coming in and plopping down at the dining table.

"Where's Hank?" Raven looks around, sitting a little straighter as Charles helps carry the food to the table.

"Probably in the lab. Again." Sean rolls his eyes with a laugh that turns into a yawn. "-Crap-."

"Language," Charles scolds without heat.

"Nah. That'd make what, the fourth time this week?" Laughter from Alex, who is stretching and easing the chair onto its back legs. "Probably just sleeping in, the lazy bozo."

"Alex," Charles frowns, as Erik lifts a hand, bringing the chair back down to all four.

"Morning, everyone," comes the muffled voice, Hank stumbling in. He looks the worse for wear, hair ruffled and a palm pressed to his mouth to stifle a yawn. His glasses look like they have fingerprints over the lenses and generally, he looks exhausted.

"Morning. Sleepy?" Raven scoots out the chair between herself and Alex, and Hank takes it with a mumbled 'thank you'.

"Yeah. I...I couldn't get comfortable last night." Hank laughs slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Breakfast smells delicious, by the way," he adds, smiling at Erik.

Erik nods, serving everyone before easing back in his chair.

"Did you get enough sleep, Hank?" Charles takes on a concerned tone, watching him.

"Eh... enough. It's not like I'm the only one who didn't get enough sleep last night." Hank mutters, and Alex seems to choke beside him.

"...Excuse me?" Charles blinks, and appears to lose some colour. Erik, beside him, raises a brow.

"Ah! Nothing! Absolutely nothing, just me rambling on about nothing, oh -god-..." Hank waves his hands before seeming to try and bury himself against the table, hands over his head almost protective.

Erik and Charles exchange a look and Charles, with some amount of hesitance, closed his eyes, reaching out and gently sifting through the top layer of Hank's mind.

Two soft bodies, moving close against one another. Whispers - yespleaseoh-Alex-, slow, careful, darkness and warmth, curled around and then louder voices through the wall. Loud, enthusiastic voices, and Charles makes sure to withdraw his attention quickly, feeling his own face burn up.

"Oh. Well, I-"

"Can we please just not talk about it, sir?" Hank mumbles.

"Yes. I- yes, I do believe that'd be for the best." Charles laughs, before standing. "Excuse me for a moment, children. Erik and I have to have a bit of a chat."

"But-"

"Now, please, Erik."

* * *

><p>This was my first attempt (and one of very few I'll ever commit to writing) for First Class fanfiction. Hopefully, all characters are not <em>too<em> out of character.


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